See www.mediaparents.co.uk for great networking, talent, jobs and information. To contact anyone on the Media Parents blog please go to the NETWORK part of the Media Parents site. To join us please go to www.mediaparents.co.uk

This London blogger is part of the Media Parents site, but blogs anonymously. Her blog, Not a Notting Hill Mum, has been nominated for a blogging award, so if you’d like to vote for her after reading, please see details below. If you’d like to write for the Media Parents blog, anonymously or otherwise, please contact us through www.mediaparents.co.uk

Why do people go to the gym? To exercise perhaps, to make new friends or even to find a new significant other?

Until yesterday I’d never thought about it – I would simply have said exercise. The only chance I get to swim and use my gym membership is really during my children’s swimming lessons when I do as many lengths up and down the pool as I can manage. And then I squeeze in a couple of extra length while my kids shower off at the side of the pool. Each time I get to the end of the pool I check the kids are OK and whether or not they are ready to get out of the shower.

So yesterday I’m powering up and down (OK taking it easy with some leisurely breast stroke) and there’s a guy standing at the end of the pool in the water doing some limbering up. And each time I talk to the kids in the shower, he says something to me which I can’t understand, because I’m deaf and he’s not English.

But I take it to be something along the lines of: “Aren’t your kids cute” or maybe: “I’ve got a son that age” and so I smile politely and kind of nod and swim back up the pool.

So the final time I stop next to him and say, “Ok kids it’s time to go, let’s get out now” and this guy is still limbering up and he says, clear as a bell:

“You know, I really, really fancy you.”

I stutter slightly and am truly lost for words.

Remembering my manners after what seems like ages I reply:

“Er, I guess I should take that as a compliment. Ummm. Thank you.”

And he says: “Are you single?”

And I say , apologetically “No, I’m married and I have two children.” And I point at the children whom he cannot have failed to notice, given that I have been talking to them on and off ever since he got in the pool.

( Please note, if you read yesterday’s post, that I point out that I am attached nice and early!)

“Oh,” he says looking really quite crestfallen, which I cannot understand, given that he is quite attractive and unbelievably fit (I know this as he is only wearing a pair of swimming trunks) – and I am almost certainly older than him – and a lot less fit than almost every other woman who uses the gym – because I don’t actually use it.

So I try to cheer him up.

No, I do not give him my phone number – lesson learned and I should point out that ” boyfriend” and rival of shoe-shop boy became “husband” many years later!

But I tell swimming boy that I have lots of single friends – and smile in an optimistic, give-me-my-medication- now kind of way.

“No,” he says I think rather more sorrowfullly than is necessarily, “I’m only interested in you. Adding perhaps a little more realistically: “I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is.”

I can only agree. Because those of you who have met me will know that although I may look Ok in low light with makeup on, I am not the fresh faced mannequin that you see at the top of my blog. And on this occasion I am almost naked ( not in a good way) with slightly red eyes from the chlorine and deep goggle marks round them as if I was being marked up for a eye-lift. In addition, I am wearing a saggy swimsuit where the lycra has given up and the foam cups have gone off message, so by the end of a swimming session I look as if I am the victim of a junior surgeon’s first attempt at breast implants.

And yet he repeats “I just fancy you so much.”

At this I recover my senses, say “It’s nice to have met you” and “come along children”, and climb out of the pool trying to pull my drooping swimsuit down over my thighs- until I realise I’m now exposing even more of my boobs and their foam companions.

Now I know you are thinking: he must say this to everyone he meets and sometimes it must work – and I agree – but if I’d taken him up on it he would have had to shag me! No? What was he thinking?

Or maybe someone, who knew I was feeling a little bit down, paid him.

Whatever, once I was safely out of sight I laughed and laughed. Not at him, poor misguided man ( maybe he wears glasses when he’s not swimming and I was all a blur) but more at myself and the very rare event of me being absolutely speechless!

“Not a Notting Hill Mum” has been nominated/ longlisted for a blogging award which is all very exciting except that to become a final finalist I need votes – (and then if you get enough you are judged – I think.)

It’s a bit odd (my daughter told me asking for people to vote for you on the school council was “ against the law”) – but apparently we are supposed to ask people.

So if you ever have a quiet moment before the deadline of April 30th ( unlikely I know) perhaps you would be able to do this ?!

You don’t have to vote in other categories in order to do this – but can if you want of course.

If you click on the BIB pink badge on my blog that will also take you there.

A lot of bloggers have very large clique of supporters so I have no idea how many votes I need so stay in the game – but as I blog anonymously I can only ask those in the know, so your votes will definitely make a difference!

by Amy Walker

Comments

Thanks very much for posting this Amy. I would love to know how many other media parents blog and why. Is it an extension of your professional life or something completely separate? And do you blog as yourself or do you have an alter ego and blog anonymously as I do. And if so what are your reasons ?